Friday the 13th: Snowed-In Slaughter
by RoninJedi
Summary: When five friends become stranded in the middle of a snow storm, they decide to take refuge in the remains of Camp Crystal Lake until morning. Jason's been dead for years, so there's nothing to worry about. Or is there? Rated for content and language. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

**Friday, February 13****th**

**Present Day**

The night hovered gently over Crystal Lake. The moon shone brightly overhead, the glowing orb obscured periodically by the thin wisps of clouds floating gracefully across the night sky, far outshining the stars which dotted the celestial canopy. Its silvery light piercing the covering of bare tree branches in bright patches that illuminated the frozen landscape of the campground. A harsh wind blew in from the west, chilling the air even further and scattering the fallen leaves across the night sky. A thin sheet of snow blanketed the area as far as the eye could see, reflecting the moonlight brightly where the rays struck, coating the crumbling roofs and ruined structures of the cabins still standing after so many years of disuse. Camp Crystal Lake had been reduced to a winter wasteland, and he stood silently in the center of the unfolding spectacle, _hating_ it.

Even with his utter lack of sophistication, he understood the implications of the scene he surveyed. It happened every year, and every year, his rage seethed. The temperature plummeted, bringing frozen rain and snow to cover his home and most of the surrounding area. The sound of vehicles driving by the barren site diminished gradually, and soon ceased altogether. The young, hormone-driven humans who so often entered his territory due either to ignorance or arrogance abruptly ended their misguided visits. There would be no blood shed for quite some time, and he hated the waiting almost as much as the fools who led themselves to slaughter.

He understood there was no longer any reason for his tireless vigilance. He would retreat to his shack hidden within the depths of the forest. There he would sit silently, unmoving, while he waited for the cold and the snow to be replaced by warmth and the sounds of animals which promised the opportunity for death.

Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he thought he remembered his mother telling him that some animals behave in a similar manner.

Yes. He remembered.

_Mommy said bears did that. When it gets cold, bears will – what did Mommy say? Bears will hibe ….. hiberna …... _

It didn't matter what bears would do. His habits resembled those of a vicious predator, and he liked that.

He shoved the thoughts – the notions, more accurately – aside. His continued vigil was pointless, and Mommy was waiting for him. She would worry soon. He narrowed his eyes in a final display of defiance to the season which had come upon him, and then turned slowly and began to walk back home.

The sound of his boots thumping on the compacted snow was deafening in the silence of the night. Within the confines of Camp Crystal Lake, nothing moved. Nothing showed itself, nothing made a sound. Even the sporadic fluttering of birds which had been so common didn't put in an appearance.

He hated it. And he would hate the waiting even more.

Just as he crossed the tree line into the thick of the forest, he paused, his senses suddenly raging. He turned his head slowly toward the southwest. There was a road that way, he knew that. It was a road his victims often used to expedite their demise. He had heard something. He had _sensed_ it. He turned back to face the direction of the road.

Could it be that his hibernation – _that's what Mommy called it _– would be delayed?

He strained his senses, focusing with every fiber of his blackened soul to detect any trace of the thing he had sensed. It was a long time before he moved again, finding nothing. He turned back and continued his journey home, seething with hate, craving the feel of human life in his twisted hands.

He dared to hope – if, in fact, it could be considered hope – that perhaps this year would be different. Maybe this year, some of the miserable sheep would find their way to his domain, to their slaughterhouse.

He smiled slightly as the idea flashed before his feeble mind, and quickly shook it away. The feeling was just … _wrong_ … and kept moving, wondering if Mommy had begun to miss him yet.


	2. Chapter 2

"Come on, guys, knock it off!" Roy's voice sounded in the cramped Expedition, barely audible over the hammering riffs of AC/DC's "Hells Bells" rattling through the abused speakers. "It's hard enough to drive in this weather with this shit blaring in my ears." He shot a look at Fred, sitting in the passenger seat. The gangly ginger just smiled and gave Roy an exaggerated wink. Roy returned his attention to the distractingly active duo in the back seat. "I don't need you horny bastards kicking my seat on top of it."

In the back seat, Thomas dismounted Jennifer with a melodramatic sigh, nearly knocking Allison into the floor when he fell down next to her. "Whatever, RoyBoy," he said sarcastically. "Like you know anything about anything being on top of anything. You're probably scared you won't be able to avert your perv-ass eyes and end up wrapping us around a tree."

The remark was met with laughter from Jennifer and Fred as Jennifer pulled her shirt back down. Allison stayed quiet in her seat, and Roy just glared at Thomas in the rearview mirror. He wanted to fire back, to say something. _Anything_. But he knew it wouldn't do any good. Thomas was a perennial shit-talker if ever there was one. Roy would make a comment, then Thomas would respond immediately with a remark that would inadvertently make Roy out to be gay, or incestuous, or perhaps a chronic masturbator.

No, Roy thought. Better to let it go. Knowing Thomas, he'd probably get herpes or something eventually anyway.

As "Hells Bells" came to a close, Fred reached over to switch off the CD player, and silence finally settled over the quintet, for which Roy was grateful. Snow was beginning to fall frantically. Thick, heavy flakes which whipped through the gusting wind like a swarm of locusts that threatened to reduce his visibility to zero. The 99 Expedition was an unruly beast in the best conditions, a rattling and sputtering hunk of metal that had been on its last wheels for far too long. Roy was a decent mechanic, but he couldn't work miracles, and even he wasn't sure what was keeping the truck together at this point. It just had to survive a few more months until graduation, when his grandfather had promised to purchase a new vehicle for Roy. Providing, of course, he kept his grades where they should be, and that the price tag wasn't outrageous.

He shook all of that away and quickly returned his attention to the road, taking his foot off the accelerator and slowing to a somewhat manageable 32 miles per hour. All the while wondering why he had agreed to this trip in the first place.

Roy reached for a switch on the dash panel to turn the heater up, and his eyes fell on Allison's reflection as she sat quietly behind Fred. _Oh yeah,_ he smiled slightly. _That's why._ After more than a year of being stuck in the "friend zone", this trip was exactly what Roy needed to take his relationship with Allison a little further. After all, it would be a get-together with longtime friends in a log house situated back in the forests of Croppie Creek with a roaring fireplace inside and a swirling snow storm outside. The only thing that could make it more romantic would be if Marvin Gaye could show up and play his Greatest Hits.

Roy tried to return his focus to the road and to navigating through the onslaught of what was quickly appearing to be a full-on blizzard. But apparently Thomas wasn't willing to let him do so. He leaned forward, resting his arm on the back of the driver's seat, putting his face uncomfortably close to Roy's ear. "Come on, Roy," he said, much too loudly for Roy's taste. "Just admit it. You'd kill a hobo if it would get you laid."

Jennifer and Fred responded with another round of laughter. Roy's grip tightened on the steering wheel, and as he wished silently Thomas would just shut his mouth, he knew his face was turning red.

What he didn't know was that his foot was pressing harder on the accelerator.

"Seriously," Thomas continued, "It's not a big secret, RoyBoy. Everyone knows you couldn't get laid in a women's prison with a handful of weekend passes."

The laughter got even louder now, and Roy's patience was nearing its end. Allison finally spoke up from the back seat. "Come on, guys," she said, her voice nearly drowned out by the cackling trio. "Just leave him alone and let him drive."

Roy felt relief and gratitude for just a moment. At least Allison was on his side, for all the good it would probably do. But that was replaced once more by anger when Thomas punched his shoulder and shouted, "Tell the truth, Roy. Say it was a hockey game. Think you could score if Allison pulled her goalie?"

Everything happened within seconds next. Roy lost total control of his temper, whipping his head and fist toward Thomas, hitting him square on the jaw as he started yelling obscenities. Jennifer started screaming at Roy in the back seat, cursing and slapping at him frantically, her hand connecting more than once with the back of his head. Fred and Allison both began yelling for everyone to knock it off and just to shut up. Then Thomas suddenly screamed, "Watch out!"

Roy whipped his focus back to the road just in time to realize it was no longer underneath them. Then immediately the Expedition lurched violently as it left the road completely and slid down the hillside. Screams filled the truck as it picked up speed, bouncing and jolting along the way, clipping and scraping trees as it continued down the hill. Loud cracking sounds were heard as the side mirrors were broken off by thick branches as the truck whipped past.

Roy finally slammed on the brake, but the wheels locked up and the truck began to slide. He lost all control of direction as he turned the wheel wildly from side to side, trying desperately to right their course. The Expedition turned completely sideways, not slowing down as it continued to slide. Roy heard the sound of metal crunching as the SUV's front end collided with a large rock, spinning the truck around nearly 360 degrees. Then he spotted a large, ancient oak tree several yards ahead, easily wider than the truck, and realized in horror they were heading straight for it. He yelled for everyone to hold on. He thought he heard one or both of the girls crying. Then it was as if a small explosion went off as the truck collided with the tree, coming to a vicious halt and throwing all five passengers forward.

Roy felt a terrible pain as white light exploded behind his vision, and then everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

A harsh, howling wind rattled the pitiful shack violently, wooden planks and thin sheet metal clanging loudly as they were thrashed by the onslaught. Fat, heavy snowflakes blew into the shack through the numerous cracks and holes in the makeshift siding, quickly forming small patches of white along the hardened dirt floor.

He sat silently on the bed, gnarled hands clasped together, ignoring it all. The wait had begun, and he _hated_ it. Already, he felt the desire to stamp out life well up and spread through his being like the fetid stench of a rotting carcass.

What _was_ that stench?

_I think Mommy needs a bath._

He stood and walked to the cracked doorway which led to the shrine he had built for her. He gazed longingly at the gnarled, taut skin of her face, recalling for a moment the rosy cheeks and glistening eyes he had found so beautiful when he was a child, the image hanging before his mind's eye like smoke on the air. He stepped toward her slowly, taking in her sweet, fetid aroma as it filled his festered nostrils through the mask which covered his shame.

_Mommy wasn't ashamed. Mommy didn't look at me like _they _did._

He knelt before her, gazing into those empty sockets, wishing suddenly she would do more than sit there and stare at him. He wished she could play with him like she used to, that she could wrap him in her arms and rock him to sleep, humming softly in his ear.

He reached out with rough, twisted fingers and gently stroked her frayed hair, knots catching his fingertips as he ran them through the stringy mop.

_Mommy def…defly needs a bath._

He grabbed his mother's head on both sides and lifted it, ignoring the wet smacking sounds as her flesh was pulled free from the wooden table, brushing away the few insects that skittered out from beneath. Cradling it gently in both hands, he took her head to the rusted tub and set it carefully on the edge as he added a bit more discolored water from a dented metal pail off to the side.

At that moment, a strange sound reached his ears. It was the sound of a car, like he had heard countless times, but this one was different. He heard snow crunch and branches snap. He heard an eerie squeal followed by a crash. The sounds were faint, but they were real. Quickly placing Mommy back onto the table, he stood and turned his back to her.

He listened hard, but heard nothing else. That wasn't right. He knew cars didn't sound like that on purpose. Picking up his machete, he turned back to gaze at his mother one more time.

_I'll be good, Mommy. I promise._

He stepped through the shambled door into the frozen night, heading toward the direction that weird sound had come from.

Allison came to slowly, her head swimming and her vision foggy as she opened her eyes. The first thing she became aware of was that the truck wasn't moving. The second was that she was lying in the back floorboard. And the third was that her hands were covered in something warm and wet. This third notion alarmed her, shaking away the confusion and fog immediately, and he sat upright, fighting against the dizziness that suddenly assaulted her.

No one was moving yet, or making any noise. That scared her even more, and she looked around the truck frantically. "Guys?"

Jennifer was still mostly in her seat, her head against the window. Fred was held in the front passenger seat by his seatbelt, his body hanging limply. Roy was slumped against the airbag she didn't remember deploying. "Guys?"

Roy started to stir, lifting his head groggily and looking around. "What happened?" Then realization and recollection quickly flooded through him. "Oh, shit! Is everyone alright?"

"I think I'm okay," Allison replied, still not entirely sure. Her dizziness had passed, but her whole body ached, and she knew that was blood on her hands. She just didn't know whose. Then she realized Thomas was slumped over in his seat, a nasty gash on his forehead dripping blood onto her. Scrambling to get up, she regained her seat and began shaking him frantically.

"Thomas! Thomas!"

A groan told her he was alive, and she breathed a silent sigh of relief. Jennifer and Fred began to stir at that point, and within a few minutes, all of them were awake and coherent.

"Can everyone move? Is anyone hurt?" Roy was digging a Bic pen out of his pocket as he asked, stabbing the airbag to deflate it. A quick inventory of injuries was taken, and Roy was relieved to learn that, considering the nature of the wreck, they were lucky. Fred thought he had a broken rib or two, his seat belt keeping him in place but also undoubtedly the culprit of the trauma. Jennifer had hit her head on the window and had a nasty lump and bruise, but was otherwise okay. Thomas, however, would undoubtedly need stitches, a flick of his lighter revealing the gash to be two inches across and nearly half as deep, right below his hairline. The cut ached terribly, and he thought he had been hit by a beer bottle when they had wrecked, but he was otherwise sound. Only Roy and Allison had escaped unscathed, albeit terribly shaken.

After a few more minutes, everyone dug their coats out from the back of the truck and bundled up before carefully stepping outside to discover the Expedition was a loss. The sides were scratched, dented, and all but crumpled. Windows were cracked, the front-end smashed in, and the unmistakable smells of antifreeze and oil hung heavily on the crisp night air.

"Alright," Fred's voice cut through the air, unsettlingly loud. "We're officially fucked."

"Hold on," Jennifer replied, digging around in her pocket for a moment before retrieving a cell phone and holding it up triumphantly.

Fred just laughed. "You've got to be joking. You actually think you're gonna get a signal on that thing?"

"Why not?" Jennifer and Thomas said in unison.

"Because we're in the middle of nowhere. That was the whole point of coming out here, remember?"

Defiantly, she unlocked the screen and held the phone in the air. After a few moments of silence, she stepped off to her left. Then back to her right.

"Told you so," Fred mocked.

She ignored him, practically walking circles in search of a signal.

"Okay, so we need a phone," Thomas said. "We can just get to a gas station."

"Yeah," it was Roy's turn to be sarcastic. "Let's walk fifteen miles in ten-degree weather in the middle of a damn blizzard. Great plan, shit biscuit." The insult was out before he could stop it. Thomas glared at him angrily while Fred erupted in laughter, and even Allison chuckled.

Thomas started to walk toward Roy when Allison spoke up. "What about the camp?"

That drew silent stares from the others. Even Jennifer abandoned her efforts at the words. "You mean Crystal Lake?" she asked.

"Forest Green," Fred corrected. "They changed the name. A couple times."

"Whatever," Allison continued. "It's only a mile or so from here. Well, a mile or so from wherever we went off the road."

"How do you know that?" Fred asked, his voice uncharacteristically shaken.

Allison rolled her eyes. "Because we passed the sign on the road."

"Wait," Jennifer said, stepping closer to the group. "Isn't that the camp where Jason killed all those people?"

There was a collective groan from the three guys. "Bullshit," Thomas said. "That's just a story our parents told us to keep us away from the camp. They didn't want us getting splinters and tetanus and shit."

"No it's not!" Jennifer raised her voice. "My girlfriend's cousin _saw _him! He and some girl were attacked and barely made it. It screwed up his head and he's living in a nursing home."

"You mean Nick?" Thomas asked, before laughter erupted from his lips. "Please! Nick is so full of shit I'm surprised his eyes aren't brown!"

"No he's not!" Jennifer was growing furious now. "The house they were at burned down and everything!"

"Yeah, because someone got drunk and spilled the gas in the basement. Nick hit his head getting out and it fucked him up. He's been lying about that night for years."

Jennifer said nothing, crossing her arms and seething with anger.

"I'm not saying he can help it," Thomas offered, suddenly wondering when the next time he'd see Jennifer naked would be if didn't talk a little nicer. "That bump on the head gave him that shit. That confound…confab…what do they call that shit?"

"Confabulation," Jennifer replied quietly. "They say he doesn't know he's lying."

"Exactly," Thomas said, with all the pompous air of a lawyer slamming the door on his case. "Jason's just a story. He drowned when he was a kid, then his mom went nuts and killed a bunch of counselor's when they tried to reopen. She was killed by the girl who survived, and that's it. There's nothing there but a bunch of rundown cabins now."

"But what about…"

"That's enough." Allison cut in, ending the argument. "Let's just get to the camp, wait out the storm and then make the trek to the gas station and get some help."

"What about Thomas?" Jennifer asked.

"We can't stitch that cut," Fred offered, "but if we get him there and lay him down, I can probably patch it up enough to hold out until we can get help."

There was a long moment of silence as each of them contemplated the choice. Individually, they had to admit there was no other option. Finally Allison broke the silence. "If nothing else, there will be plenty of wood to burn. We could at least get warm."

That seemed to settle the matter, and silently they all dug through the Expedition, gathering their bags and whatever else they could carry. Fred retrieved the First-Aid Kit, and took a few minutes to clean and bandage Thomas' head. It was a piss-poor job, but it would hold until they could get to some kind of shelter, which they all agreed they should do as quickly as possible. The temperature was dropping even more, and the snow was showing no signs of letting up. Already the topside of the SUV was covered by a thick blanket of white.

And so the little band set out, determined to follow the tracks left in the wake of the wreck back to the road, before the snow covered and hid them completely. From there, they would continue their march toward the camp, and take refuge in one of the cabins that was bound to still be standing. Besides, Roy offered at one point, maybe they would get lucky and someone would drive by and see them, and stop to see if they needed help.

No one really believed that, but they all kept silent. Focused only on keeping their heads down and putting one foot in front of the other, they marched on into the night, oblivious to the eyes watching them from no more than a dozen yards away.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time they made it to the camp, Jennifer couldn't feel her hands, and Thomas could barely put one foot in front of the other.

Despite the recent time of the wreck, the rate of falling snow made following the tracks back to the road difficult. Here and there, someone tripped over a strewn piece of metal, the effects of the collision and the worsening weather forming a nearly perfect equation of confusion and reducing visibility to zero. It took nearly ten minutes before their feet were on asphalt once more, and from there they continued in their original direction, looking desperately for some sign that the camp was drawing near.

No one spoke as they marched on, each concentrating on merely staying on their feet. More than once, Thomas suffered a flash of dizziness and crumpled to the ground. Finally, Roy helped shoulder his weight and the two walked side by side, Thomas leaning on the bigger man for support. There was, of course, the occasional grumble, wondering how much farther they would have to walk, but those were met with silence and quickly subsided.

It was nearly an hour after setting out before they came upon the camp. They stopped in unison when the cabins finally came into view, ruined husks dotting the landscape like massive macabre grave markers. The roofs of many had long since caved in, giving way to years of neglect and rot. The few still in one piece were covered by a blanket of snow. That, coupled with the swirling flakes driven by the fury of the wind, gave the camp the appearance of some ghoulish snow globe.

"Can we please just pick one and go?" Thomas' voice startled the other four, and they silently set about the task of finding suitable shelter. After just a few minutes, Roy called for the others, and heralded them in front of a cabin situated in the center of the camp ground.

"I think this is the best one," he said. "Seems to be in one piece, and it's the only one still standing that has a fireplace."

"A fireplace?" Jennifer's question drew rolling eyes from Roy, Fred, and even Allison.

"Yeah," Fred told her. "Usually a chimney up top means there's a fireplace. You know, a place to burn stuff so we don't freeze to death?"

Jennifer scoffed and flipped Fred the bird.

"Alright, alright," Allison cut in. "Let's just get inside and get out of the weather."

The group stepped into the cabin in single-file, sighing collectively as they finally escaped the frenzied storm outside. They spread out a bit, taking in the scene. After a moment, Jennifer's voice broke the silence. "Ew," she said quietly. The others were quiet, but each agreed with her.

The floor of the structure was a dilapidated wreck. Several holes dotted the floor, jagged ends reaching upward, rusted nails jutting out every which way. A lone window on the west side of the building provided a hazy view outside, but no one wanted to even guess at the identity of the filmy substance that coated it, much less attempt to clean it. The room was cluttered with dusty, crumbling toys, old books and magazines whose writing was unrecognizable, and two fuzzy forms which Roy was pretty sure were either large rats or small possums.

"At least we've got plenty of stuff to burn," Fred offered, trying almost desperately to sound optimistic.

"Okay," Roy said, his voice oddly projected as fear and boldness obviously vied for position. "We need to get our shit together."

"Really?" Thomas took a shuffled step toward him. "So all of a sudden you're taking on the role of 'Fearless Leader'?"

"No," Roy stammered quickly. "It's just we need to at least have an _outline_ of a plan."

"Oh, boy," Thomas' words leaked with sarcasm. "He's got an _outline_. Well then, Fearless Leader, what shall we do?" He offered a mock salute, but the sudden motion made him dizzy all over again, and so he lowered his hand and stood on unstable legs.

"Well," Roy was already looking between Fred, Allison, and Jennifer; either for support, or suggestions. At that moment, he received neither. "For starters, I think everyone should turn off their phones. No one can get a signal, so they're not doing us any good. And when the storm clears and we can get to a place with reception, it would be a good idea to make sure they're not dead."

Allison took a step forward. "Good idea," she said quietly, offering a weak smile of encouragement. Fred and Jennifer nodded their agreement.

"Second," Roy continued, "we need to get our food together."

Thomas was slowly lowering himself to a seated position. "Figures you'd make yourself the Food Fairy, too," he said, only partially under his breath.

Roy ignored him. "Look, the storm should only last the night, but what if it doesn't? Or what if, by the time it's over, we're snowed in to the point we can't go for help?"

A thick blanket of anxiety and fearful realization suddenly settled over the group. Roy may very well have been correct, and no one was pleased with that notion.

"First thing's first," Fred spoke up. "We've _got_ to get a fire going."

There was murmured agreement from the others. Fred and Roy went around the room as a unit, gathering everything they could that would burn. As they did so, the other three began pouring through their bags, situating everything edible into a pile near the fireplace. It was a pitiful selection that only amounted to a few bags of salted peanuts, two cans of Pringles, a bag of beef jerky, half a pint of Jim Beam (they silently thanked Thomas for that), four packs of chewing gum, two half-empty Gatorade bottles, and one unopened bag of Skittles.

"Oh feast of feasts," Thomas said, rolling his eyes.

Less than five minutes later, Fred and Roy had the fire going, and the group sat near it in a semi-circle, hands and feet stretched toward the fire as they slowly began to warm up.

"Awesome getaway, guys," Jennifer offered at one point. "Whose idea was this again?"

There were a couple of chuckles but, in truth, no one could really remember at that point.

"It could be worse," Allison said. "I mean, that wreck was nuts. Somebody could have died."

Heads nodded.

"At least we're all in one piece. We're out of the storm and we've got a fire. All things considered, I'd say it couldn't get much better."

More nods of agreement. Once everyone had sufficiently warmed up to move somewhat comfortably, Fred retrieved the First-Aid kit from his bag. Thomas very likely had a concussion, but there was nothing to be done about that for now. He cleaned the wound with alcohol, which brought a grunt of pain from Thomas that Roy couldn't help but smile at. A fresh bandage was applied and held in place with a few strips of medical tape.

"There you go," Fred said, a boastful smile on his face. "Good as new. Well," his smiled widened. "As good as _you'll_ ever get, anyway."

"Fuck you," Thomas retorted weakly, and everyone had a laugh at that. Their uneasiness was beginning to subside, and a couple even dared to hope they may end up enjoying their unscheduled detour.

Jennifer picked up the bottle of Jim, took a sip and passed it to Fred. "May as well act like we're camping," she said. Fred nodded and accepted the bottle with a smile.

The group began slowly to unwind and make merry, oblivious to the motionless form standing just within the tree line some thirty yards away, watching their distorted forms through the cabin's lone window.


End file.
